


To Make Him Happy

by author_abz



Series: Baby Fever [2]
Category: iCarly
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-01
Updated: 2009-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/author_abz/pseuds/author_abz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is determined to make Spencer happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Make Him Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Several years later and I still have a hard time believing I wrote this story. One might say it's a crack!fic - but the writing does not suggest it, so make of it what you will. I'm scratching my head, but I also really love this fic.

Things are different after that morning. It's almost as if that moment of understanding never stopped. You treat each other exactly the same, but it's palpable how you think about him differently, and you can feel that he thinks about you differently too.

It's when you'd normally look away after a joke, or you walk away with Carly and Freddie, leaving him to himself. Now though, you keep looking, and the two of you connect, time and time again. You start smiling at him an extra second or two, and he smiles back. Somehow, that transitions into watching him as he turns and begins his work, at which point you feel a little creepy and you're getting left behind.

You feel like a dork when he starts to look back up at you, but after it happens about three times, it stops being weird. He stops looking away from you, and both of your faces change almost as one. In these moments when both of you are serious, it becomes the most obvious thing in the world. Spencer is actually dying inside a little bit each day. Every day he doesn't have a girlfriend, every day he has to live without, and he's feeling hopeless.

He's secretly depressed, and a little bit of you dies inside to see it every day. His eyes are crying out for help, you could swear it. Slowly, as you learn to smile back reassuringly, a plan forms. Anyone else would think it was insane. You know it is too, but you also know it'll work.

One day, as Carly and Freddie walk off in their own little world, and Spencer's grin is more fake than usual, you decide to speak up, "Hey Spencer, you know, I'll be eighteen in a week."

\---

As expected, Spencer tells you that you're crazy, but you see the sparkle of hope in his eyes.

\---

You give Freddie and Carly hints to make your eighteenth birthday surprise bash a small one, and if they can't manage that, at least have it over by a certain time. You've also told them, in threatening, very non-subtle ways, that if those birthday wishes are not carried out one of them will be hurting.

\---

The whole night, you keep Spencer in your sight as much as possible. He keeps glancing at you nervously, and every time he takes a drink out of the fridge or one of the coolers, it surprises you. He doesn't grab the beer sitting there, and makes it clear to you every time.

Later, you shoo everyone from the loft, and as you push Gibby out, your hands begin to shake. Carly yawns loudly, and makes an indistinguishable comment through another – you think it's about cleaning up. You convince her to go to bed, and you kick Freddie out of the loft, claiming birthday girl – no, birthday  _woman_  rights.

The loft is strangely quiet as the door shuts, and your breath isn't quite so regular now. Spencer is standing behind the breakfast bar, his face drawn and his eyes pleading with you. "Sam," his voice warns.

You're next to him before he can get out another word. Your legs wobble a little bit now too, and you don't want to think why. Instead, you take the desperate look on Spencer's face in your trembling hands, and cover his protests with a slow, soft kiss.

\---

Four months later and you are frustrated. Carly has been asking why you never sleep at your own house anymore, and Spencer has stopped really speaking to you. Outside of the bedroom, that is. And today, no one can do anything right. Everyone who comments on it says that it's your own fault, but you know it's really just them. Carly confronts you at lunch and you want to yell back at her, to tell her it's only because you're trying to help her brother, but you promised Spencer you wouldn't tell her.

However, unbeknownst to you, Spencer is in the loft freaking out to Socko right now. You don't know that he's worried about what this has become. You don't know that he's afraid of where it started, so he doesn't know your real motives. You don't know that he's confused as shit, and it's not that he doesn't want to talk to you, it's that he doesn't know what to say.

Carly is mad at you taking out what she says is your PMS on everyone around you. You start to tell her how very wrong she is because … wait. WAIT. You stop frowning at Carly and suddenly hug her, and she seems concerned by your wide smile. "Sam, what –?" But you don't let her finish and you run off to the school nurse excitedly.

He confirms your suspicions the best he can, and even though you yell about not being able to go straight to the Shay loft right now, the rest of the day you still float on cloud nine in your triumph. Carly, as the day progresses, starts to look increasingly concerned, and you notice she's whispering to Freddie about you. Instead of getting mad like you want to though, you ignore them, and remind yourself to be happy. You succeeded.

You bound into the Shay loft later, yelling out, "Spencer! Spencer!" which makes Carly and Freddie, who trail in behind you, look even more confused and concerned. Spencer comes down the stairs, a large box in hand, and he manages to set it down before your running hug knocks the wind out of him.

He hugs you back awkwardly, "Um, hi."

But you still smile widely into his chest – god he smells good – and you can't hold it in any longer. "Spencer, I'm pregnant," you pull back happily from his awkward embrace, "Spencer – I'm pregnant!" You make a squealing noise as you watch the news hit him, as you watch it sink in.

You see a myriad of emotions dance in his eyes, but all of them are subdued by sheer ecstasy. His mouth moves as if to say, "Yeah?" but nothing comes out, and you nod, a tear actually rolling down your face because he's reacting like you hoped he would. He stares at you for a second, and the brightness in his eyes dies a little, and you don't know why, but then he kisses you, softly and sweetly.

You don't know that in kissing you he's actually following Socko's advice. You don't realize he's not thinking, but reacting. He's acting on his natural reaction, but you don't know that, and this is one time you can't tell what he's thinking.

Instead, you recognize in this kiss something that had been missing in all of your kisses in the past months. It reminds you of your first kiss. It steadies you, and you can't imagine that anything is weird at all. It feels right, it feels natural, and you're reassured of his feelings. He is happy, even if he didn't smile, and even if he's not jumping up and down.

A short, simple, sweet kiss, and you know. You pull away and smile happily up at him again, there is a euphoria in his eyes again, and you know it was all worth it. You know that it will all be worth it. That you made the right decision, just to make him happy.


End file.
